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Mount Rainier Photographs

Close Up of Mount Rainier On A Clear Day

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (August, 2011)

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Backpacking Friends

Backpacking Friends

For my 50th birthday this year I decided to return to a favorite Washington backpacking destination of mine – the Wilderness Area of the Olympic National Parks Coast.  I invited any who would come with me for a week long excursion from Rialto Beach near LaPush, Washington, to the Ozette River or Ozette Lake.  I didn’t have many takers.

I have hiked the Washington Coast area between the Hoh River and the Point of the Arches several times over the years.  I was born in Port Angeles, Washington, while my parents were living among the Makah Indians of Neah Bay, Washington.  My mother has told me more than once that my umbilical cord was never completely severed from the Peninsula.  She may be on to something there.

I have found myself returning to the Washington coastal areas around Queets, Forks, LaPush, Neah Bay, Clallam Bay, Port Angeles, and Sequim during important turning points in my life.  For instance, before I got married, I took my two best friends on a hike out to the Point of the Arches and Cape Alava.  In the middle of celebrating my 50th birthday on this past hike, I remembered that it was on my 40th birthday that I traversed the same portion of the coast.  So, there you have it.

When I lived in North Dakota for five years, it was not the beautiful mountain ranges or the snow topped dormant volcanoes of the Pacific Northwest that I missed.  No.  It was the ocean.  I missed the surf and the smell of salt water.  While the North Coast of Lake Superior above Duluth may fool the eyes into thinking for a moment that one is traveling HWY 101 on the Oregon coast, it only takes one breath for a person to realize that the massive expanse of water before them is not salty.  It simply cannot replace the ocean even as beautiful as Lake Superior is in the fall season.

Standing Rocks

Standing Rocks

Call it a spiritual connection or a mystical one, I occasionally feel a very strong pull toward the beaches and its waves.  Even in the cold wet wind, I could spend hours walking a beach or, better yet, searching through tidal pools for their colorful life forms.  Perhaps some little old Makah grandma spoke some mystical chant over me as a babe, I don’t know.  I only know I love all things about the sea.  Even its food.

A key to hiking or backpacking the Washington coast, or any coastal area for that matter, is to coordinate the tide schedule.  Get that wrong and a fun trip down the beach and around a headland could become a nightmare.  Many an unwary beach comber or day hiker has been caught unawares at how fast a northern tide can come in and how high it can move up the beach.  A tidal difference between low and high tide of 6′ – 8′ is nothing.

Throw in a storm surge or an extra high tide and the trouble only exponentiates.  I know.  I’ve waited out a couple tides on little tiny pieces of a beach or hillside waiting for the tide to recede enough to continue down the beach to my planned camp site.  I have only been caught during the day.  I cannot imagine what would happen to anyone needing to wait over night or until the next morning.

So, not only is it important to get good low tides to hike up and down the beach, but it is also important to make sure the timing of the tide coincides with when you plan on traveling.  Get a tide too early, and get started too late or get up too late, and you will find yourself scrambling to make the tide before it comes all the way in and blocks your route.  Get a tide to late in the day and you limit the amount of time you actually have to walk or hike the beach.

Starfish Cluster

Starfish Cluster

The biggest challenges in the tide changes are the headlands.  These rocky, sometimes mountainous, stubs of land that stick out into the surf pose an interesting challenge.  Should the backpacker or hiker get there at low tide, they may be rounded at ocean level.  This often means scurrying over rocks and boulders, navigating seaweed slick rocks, and getting around tidal pools.  Take your time and go carefully, and it will be a fun adventure.  Hurry and you may slip and fall and injure your pride and tender body parts.

Fortunately, the Park Service has provided ropes and ladders for many of these headlands.  This makes getting over the headlands possible at high tide.  However, these can be a challenge themselves.  The hillsides are often slick with mud and clay.  The ropes, while sturdy, are often wet and muddy.  So, navigating these ropes and ladders takes some care and a little skill, especially with a backpack.

When many first-timers think “beach hike”, they immediately assume walking long, firm sandy beaches.  However, nothing could be farther from reality.  The seascape along the Washington coast is forever changing and is very rugged.  Prepare to have your feet and legs tested as you trounce through loose sand, bounce along from boulder to boulder, slip and slide on slimy rocks, shimmy along logs, fjord creeks and rivers, and shuffle along gravelly beaches.  This is besides the times you must use rope and rope ladders to get over headlands or spend time walking above the beach in the forest.  It is nature’s veritable obstacle course for the backpacker and hiker.

Rock Island in Mist

Rock Island in Mist

The weather itself can be its own challenge.  Despite what any weather person on the local cable or TV channels will tell you, it will most certainly be the opposite.  Late July, August and September are the only reliable months for some guarantee of drier weather.  However, one must always keep in mind that this is the Washington coast after all.  It is also the home of North America’s rain forest where precipitation is measured from 110″ – 200″ per year.

The advice that I give to all my fellow travelers is simply this:  “You will get wet at some point.”  Whether it is from crossing a stream, stepping in a tide pool, getting caught unexpectedly by a wave or rain, one should simply expect to experience some portion if not all of their body being wet.  For this reason, I pack everything I want to remain dry in gallon zip-lock bags.  Air mattresses, sleeping bags and larger items are wrapped in garbage bags.

A rain proof backpack cover is helpful.  Wearing wool is necessary because it is better to be wet and warm than wet and cold.  Finally, a large tarp or plastic sheeting is handy if one does not mind the extra weight to provide cover to get out of the rain or extra shielding for the tent.  Most places along the coast a fire can be used to dry out gear.  However, on the north part of the coast between Yellow Banks and Cape Alava no fires of any kind are allowed.  Just remember to bring fireproof fire starter to build fires with wet wood.

Small Crab

Small Crab

The Park Service requires all backpackers to have hard-sided bear proof containers.  This is not so much to keep bears out, though that is important, as it is too confound the raccoons that plague the camp sites near the major trail heads.  Personally, I have had more gear and food stolen and ruined by the small critters than the large ones.  Seagulls will destroy anything to get at food left where they can eye it.  Mice, chipmunks and squirrels have eaten holes through backpacks and knapsacks to get a a goody or power bar.  All of this I speak from personal experience.  So, put all your food in a hard sided, tight lidded container and hang it!

Proper preparation can make hiking and backpacking the Washington coast an enjoyable experience.  It is well worth the hard work and effort to get away from the heavily used trail heads.  Get a few miles up or down the beach during the off season and one won’t see a soul for days.  The beauty and solitude is refreshing to the soul.

I have often claimed that nature is God’s biggest Cathedral.  As much as humankind has spent countless hours and untold riches to build the Creator cathedrals and temples to honor him, none can compare to the natural wonders of the world.  I have often said that I feel more close to God in the out-of-doors wild places than I do in the sanctuaries built by human hands.  Is it any wonder that humankind had a much more reverent and awe outlook upon the divine when it more closely dwelt in and among nature?  Our sterilized and concrete world has only removed us from what inspires the human soul to look up and wonder in awe.

When wandering the wild places of creation, I am often reminded of the old hymn’s words that sang, “…were the whole realm of nature mine, that were an offering too small, love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.”  I think Isaac Watts wrote that in the out of doors.  He was not sitting in some darkened office and cloistered away in a cubicle.  He was looking upon and considering the expanse of nature in all its beauty and thinking, “There must be a God and he must be bigger than all of this!

Oceanside Stream

Oceanside Stream

I have found myself on several occasions caught breathless in the beauty of the ocean and seascapes.  After a stormy day before and night, when one wakes up to a crystal clear blue sky reflecting off the gently rolling waves along the shore, there is nothing that compares.  I remember waking up one night late to step out of my tent because “nature called” only to be captured by the site of nature before me.  Hung low on the horizon, like the setting sun before it, rested the moon that created a shining road of light across the hundreds of miles of oceans right up to the beach in front of me.  And sprayed in vast array in the sky above and around the moon were sparkling lights of planets and stars in the thousands, if not millions, with the Milky Way gathering them all into an eternal trail of heavenly light.

I stood there for a good 20 minutes in the chilly, cold night air.  I sensed something sacred in what I witnessed.  Moving too quickly would have seemed as sacrilegious as getting up in the middle of Sunday worship to loudly excuse oneself to leave.  I have often said that people move too quickly through nature.  Like irreligious folks who just want the songs and sermons to be done so they can go about the more important duties of their life, when it comes to observing and spending time in creation, many people simply scan, sniff and move on.  One might as well have a drive-through Eucharist.

One of the advantages of being an aging backpacker is that you are forced to take it slow.  When I was younger, I was guilty of just wanting to eat up the miles of trail to get to a destination, which usually had a lake with trout in it.  While I took time even then to stop and admire creation, I did not do it with the same intention that I do so today.  Perhaps it is the idea that “this backpack trip may be my last one”.  My knees are not holding up well.  Sleeping on the ground, even with a good backpack mattress, is harsher on my body than it used to be in years gone by.

Island at Sunset

Island at Sunset

I would like to think that it is because I simply realize I have the time.  I am not in such a hurry.  I have learned the great value of pacing myself in whatever I do in life.  I have become more observant of my surroundings.  I have learned to live in the moment with joy and less anxiety.  I have learned to breath.  This is more than just a “stop and smell the roses” philosophy of life.  It is the idea that revelation and life are all around me if I will only take the time to get out and see it.

I suppose one does not need to go into the wild places of nature to experience this.  Some may find it in the middle of the busy city.  Others may find it in music or writing.  Still others may find it in beautiful deep relationships.  Each one of us has a place where we discover “deep calling to deep”.  Mine just happens to be on the wild reaches of the wet Washington Coast.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2011)

Lone Starfish

Lone Starfish

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Extended backpack trips can pose a health risk. But not for the reasons you may think.  For example, more people suffer episodes of diarrhea while camping from soap or improperly prepared food than from dirty dishes.  That’s right.  Poorly rinsed dishes that do not get off all of the soap cause more sickness than dirty dishes.

One is better off just washing with plain water – cold or hot – than trying to use soap. Plus, it is more environmentally friendly.  Need extra scrubbing power?  Find some sand.  Use a knife edge to scrape.  Whatever you do, skip the soap unless you can rinse sufficiently with hot water because only hot water removes the soap.

As to poorly prepared food, well, you’re on your own there. My problem is usually over cooked food.  Camp cooking for my part can resemble more of some kind of pagan burnt offering sacrifice to the gods than actual cooking.  This is one reason I have embraced the easy to prepare freeze-dried meals most backpackers now use.  The hardest part of preparing these meals is lighting the camp stove to boil water.

Aside from those two things, a backpacker is relatively safe when it comes to hygienic issues. One discovers that after traversing miles of trail up the sides of mountains that even a hunk of cheese or summer sausage with his buddy’s fingerprints on it are easily overlooked.  A dropped piece of fruit or granola bar on the ground merely bears the hassle of having to blow it off before popping it the mouth.  Floaties in that drink?  Unless they are squirming, just chalk it up to more fiber or protein in the diet.  The majority of the world includes plants and insects anyway.  So, go global!

The toughest part may be keeping personal hygiene issues at bay. Dirt and smell are just a part of the experience I figure.  This is particularly true when the trail has been muddy.  Aside from the sweat the workout produces, the dirt and mud can get everywhere.  What does one do?

Of course, there is always the nearby stream or lake. A simple washing and rinsing of face, hand and feet (preferably in that order) is usually sufficient.  It can even be invigorating in alpine lake and streams where the water is only a short distance from the glacier that produced it.

Then, there are backpackers like my buddy, Dan Tourangeau. They are sophisticated enough to carry prettily packaged personal wipes.  For those unfamiliar with these, they were first produced as baby wipes.  These handy towelettes could be used in a moments notice when changing a diaper or cleaning up after a meal.

One day, someone must have realized that they were good for adults too. They are now everywhere.  People carry them in purses, school backpacks, office drawers and in cars.  They substitute for the lack of a bathroom’s wash basin.  The varieties are endless: aloe, anti-bacterial, with scents, without scents, exfoliating.

Now it appears to have entered the world of backpacking. My buddy, Dan, had a few packages.  I admit they were pretty convenient to use before meals or after a trip into the woods “to talk to a man about a horse.”   They must now be a very important commodity to have since Dan has his pack weighed to the ounces.  He does not want to have to carry more than he has to up a mountain.  Who can blame him?  So, for him to pack those in and then pack those out, they must be a necessity.

The last night of our five day/four night trip, Dan decided to practice a little backwoods hygiene with his fancy personal wipes. I was tucked in my sleeping bag in my own tent and starting to fall to sleep when I was dragged from dreamland to reality.

GACK!”  The sound coming from Dan’s tent sounded like he was asphyxiating.

Are you alright,” I asked.  I was truly concerned for his safety as equally as I was about having to pack him out if something should happen to him.

Yeah,” he reassured me.  “I’m just trying to clean my feet with these personal wipes but I can hardly stand the smell of my own feet!”  After a few moments, there was another loud, “GAAAAA!

I chuckled.  “Why are you cleaning your feet now?  We’re packing out in the morning.”

He explained, “I was tired of my dirty feet and thought I would clean them.  But now I’m wondering if that was such a good idea.  Good grief I’m stinky!

Why are you doing that in your tent,” I asked.  “Being in a confined space only makes it worse.”

I didn’t think of that,” said Dan.  Another few moments passed and then, “AACK!  I think I’m going to throw-up!  I don’t think I’ve ever smelled so bad!

I laughed out loud.  “Well, good luck with that.  I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’re done.”

I don’t know if I will survive it.  I mean, this is really bad!

Well,” I offered, “better thee than me.”  And with that I rolled over and settled back into my sleeping bag.  I was exhausted from that days hike up to Robin Lake and back.  It seems, however, that sleep would have to wait a little longer.  After just a couple minutes of the sounds of night birds and crickets…

GAAA!!” shouted Dan.

Now what?” I asked.

I know that this is TMI (Too Much Information), but I decided to clean my privates because I smelled so bad.  I think the wipes only made the smell worse!

You’re right,” I offered.  “That is TMI.  Unbelievable.”

I think I’m going to pass out it’s so bad!” Dan protested.

Do you have your tent flap open?” I inquired.

No!  That’s a good idea.”  Next, I heard the zipper of Dan’s tent flap.  “Whew!  That’s a little better.”  A few moments passed before I heard in the dark, “Man!  I don’t know why I stink so bad.  I don’t usually ever smell this bad.”

According to who?” I quipped.

I mean it.  The smell is nauseating,” said Dan.  “It got worse after washing my butt!

Good grief!” I exclaimed.  “Some things should not be disturbed on an extended backpack trip until one gets to a shower.  Unbelievable!

I think you’re right,” Dan laughed.

I’m going to give you the Bible name, Lazarus, so that every time I see you I can say, ‘Surely, Lord, he stinketh!‘” I joked.

Should I go around shouting, ‘Unclean!  Unclean!’?” Dan joked back.

We both laughed out loud.  You have to love camp humor.

Hey,” a thought suddenly came to me.  “Make sure you put those wipes outside the tent.  If they’re that bad they’ll scare off any wild life that comes around in the middle of the night.”

Good idea,” said Dan.  After a few moments of silence, I heard, “Where’s my clean socks?  I know that I had another pair somewhere.  I can’t find them.”

Maybe you’ll find them better in the morning when you have better light,” I offered.

Yeah.  Maybe.  Man, this is baaaaaad!” Dan commented.

Well, I’m certainly glad you have your own tent.”

Fall Colors in Alpine Meadow, Granite Mountain, September 2010

Fall Colors in Alpine Meadow, Granite Mountain, September 2010 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Soon, Dan quieted down and I drifted off to sleep.  I slept hard and woke the next morning to the sun peaking through the trees and making sun blotches on my tent.  It looked like it was going to be another fine day.  We had misty, rainy weather packing in, so it will be nice having a sunny day to make our way out and back to the car.

I unzipped the flap to my tent and reached for my boots sitting just outside it under the rain-fly vestibule. I slipped my boots on without tying them, unzipped the rain fly and pushed myself up and out of the tent’s door.  My stiff legs took a moment to adjust to my weight.  I looked around.  Dan wasn’t up yet.

I went and watered a tree and then climbed atop a rock that overlooked the lake and looked toward the morning sunrise. Yep.  It was going to be a beautiful day.  There was a part of me that was wishing we had a few more days.  I sighed and headed down my rocky perch back to our campsite.

As I approached our tents, I noticed the dozen or so towelettes scattered on the ground in front of Dan’s tent. I remembered with a smile the events of the evening before.  Suddenly, there was movement in the tent, the zipper to the tent door began to move around by an unseen hand, and Dan poked his head out.

Good morning!”  I greeted him.  “It’s going to be a beautiful day to hike out.”

Morning,” Dan mumbled.  He gingerly raised himself up out of his tent, eyeing the sanitary wipes on the ground and careful not to disturb them.

I suppose those will have to be packed out,” he mused.

Yeah,” I answered.

You don’t think you’d mind doing me a favor,” he grinned and looked at me.

Oh, no,” I protested.  “Those are bio-hazards.  You’re responsible for packing out your own garbage.  I’d find a zip-lock bag and put them in there.”

Good idea.”

We made our last breakfasts.  Ate them in our leisure and then packed up camp.  Dan found an old freeze-dried meal pouch and put the wipes in there and sealed it good.

I was dirty, sweaty and looking forward to a shower and shave when I got home. I’m sure I had my own unique scent.  But when one has been out in nature longer than a couple of days, I figure it is better to embrace it than fight it.  After all, humankind has lived and survived in the wilderness longer than it has in modern civilization with all of its cleanliness rules.  Civilization just teaches us to hide the dirt.

Dan appeared and smelled cleaner perhaps, but he was still carrying it; albeit in a zippered pouch buried in his backpack. Me?  I was proudly wearing my dirt until I re-entered civilization where my wife and children would have nothing to do with me until I cleaned up.  I’m thinking my way is much safer.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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Mt Baker at Sunset, July 2010

Mt Baker at Sunset, July 2010 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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The recent ecological disaster in the Gulf of Mexico has reawakened in me a conundrum about evolution, the meaning of life and the ultimate end of all things. This often rises up in my mind during these man-made tragic events or other natural catastrophes.  I am left wondering, from a purely evolutionary ideal, “What’s the big deal?  Isn’t this just the natural working out of our evolutionary and natural development?”  As far as I can see, it is humankind’s evolutionary destiny as well as right to attempt to subjugate nature.

Radical environmentalists decry the abuse of nature. They claim that humans are too anthropocentric and need to have greater care for other creatures – right down to the microbial level.  They throw around the word “speciesism” or “specism” to prompt guilt among bipedal humanoids for considering our species as more important or of greater worth than other species.  As a result, they claim, our needs and selfish desires have threatened the existence of other species.  According to them, we should take more care.

This begs the question as to why it matters whether one species lives or dies – exists or ceases to exist. What moral compass guides us in our decision making to even consider the value and worth of another species however big or small?  If one argues that it is because all species are interconnected and that their survival as a species is ultimately linked to our own survival as a species, then this seems to only end in the same selfish anthropocentric concern.  When humans become concerned for other species out of worry for their own survival; it seems to only be a back door return to speciesism.

After all, the evolutionary principle that continual improvement is necessary for the survival of a species seems to me to necessitate that one species is going to survive or thrive at the cost of another. The idea of balance in nature would seem to conflict with evolution since species are ever contending for the same room and resources within a biosphere limited with both.  Not only are species at war with one other for the same resources for survival, but they are all vulnerable to disease and natural disasters.  The survival of the fittest takes on a new level of urgency and importance in such a hostile environment.

So, are not humans simply fulfilling their evolutionary destiny by exploiting to the best of their abilities the natural resources surrounding them? Can we not call the massive struggle to fight against disease and natural disasters just part of our evolutionary duty towards our own species?  Should we not consider when a portion of humanity falls to natural disasters or diseases that these adverse events are simply a part of our own struggle to survive?  And, sometimes we come out the winners and sometimes the losers?  What makes us care or have compassion for others of our own species, let alone the condition of another?

If humanity is evolved from an impersonal mass of biological material, what moral guidance really regulates our care for the rest of creation? There are all sorts of competing philosophies and religions among our species.  However, if we are the result of an ongoing evolutionary cycle, then they are all meaningless.  Humanity only finds its meaning, like the rest of nature, in its own survival and thriving.  It seems that nothing else is really pertinent to the discussion.

As such, evolution does not really satisfactorily answer the question of neither what it means to be human nor how humanity should relate to the rest of creation. Evolution, after all, is an unfeeling and meaningless force moving all species toward the final existence of one specie’s domination over all others.  Humans would be dismayed to wake up some morning to find out that the planet had been taken over by apes (as in the movie “The Planet of the Apes”) or lions, tigers or bears (Oh, my!).  Therefore, according to our evolutionary mandate, we must continue to evolve, dominate other species and, if necessary, eliminate them when necessary; right down to the microbial level.

White Wild Flowers, Deschutes River Trail, Oregon, April 2010

White Wild Flowers, Deschutes River Trail, Oregon, April 2010 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Confidence in the evolutionary path of humans, let alone all creatures, may be misplaced if we expect some form of higher-enlightenment to guide us into empathy for all species. Thousands of years of human evolution has shown to us that nature is very brutal and humankind as much or more so.  Not even considering our survival as a particular species, we divide ourselves up according to language and cultural groups and then seek to dominate one another by slavery, war or total annihilation.  We do not seem to be overly concerned with our own survival!  Granted, we do seem to care more about those who have the same skin pigmentation, language sounds and cultural similarities, but even that is no guarantee against our warring amongst ourselves for dominance and survival.

If humankind is a higher evolved animal, then there does not seem to be too much hope for all of creation. We are bent on our own destruction, the demise of all other species and the ultimate destruction of our biosphere.  There must be a greater guiding principle for us to pursue.  There must be, somewhere, a larger purpose for existing and caring for the rest of creation.  Otherwise, we are no better off than the fruit-fly.  We hatch, live, breed and die; albeit longer than the fruit-fly’s seven days.  However, the end result is the same.

If we are only the sum of an evolutionary process, then the conundrum it must answer or deny is, “Why should we care?” The logical conclusion is that we should not care or that the question itself is meaningless.  Then, why do we feel this tension and need to care for our own species as well as other species as part of our human consciousness and being?  What drives us – most of us anyway – to be empathetic towards the vulnerable, whether other humans or other species?  I think the answer must lie somewhere deeper than just bio-chemical evolution.

Is it possible that humans, as well as all of creation, is endowed with something greater than just chemical interaction? Do our existential questions stem from something that lays latent within all of us?  Is it possible that something we cannot see or measure actually is the cause and guidance creation’s existence?  Could our concern, broadly speaking, for the care and well-being of all creatures point to something imparted to us at the nexus of our beginning?  I think that an affirmative answer to these questions guides us to a more reasonable conclusion for humanity’s care and concern for the rest of creation.

Of course, this is a jump into the unknown and unexplained. It is a “leap of faith” of sorts.  However, our faith so far in what we have been able to observe, measure and reduplicate does not seem to be adequate either.  The hard sciences do not help us too much with existential questions.  They require their own “leap of faith” of sorts for us to connect the dots.  So, the question then becomes, do we keep them in two isolated spheres or do we attempt to bring them together to find meaning and answers?

The answer to that depends upon who you listen to in philosophical and scientific circles. The simple answer is that evolution at any level – biological or social – does not adequately address such questions.  To solve such a large conundrum, we must turn to larger answers beyond what we can see, hear and touch.  It may turn out that our very existence lies beyond the physical world.  The evolutionary conundrum answered by what is least expected in a world of physical sciences.  It may just be wrapped in mystery.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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Delicate Purple Flowers, Deschutes River Trail, Oregon, April 2010

Delicate Purple Flowers, Deschutes River Trail, Oregon, April 2010 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Protected in coveys during Winter,

the quail in pairs appear

to begin the rites of Spring.

Sounding to each the call,

chi-CAH-go, chi-CAH-go,

they seek shelter and nest.

Low lying brush provides cover

as mates prepare a shallow nest

to begin a new season of raising young.

Eggs laid in pine needles and dried leaves,

turns taken to care for the clutch

in hopes of young to guarantee a future.

Callipepla califonica walks proudly

in front of the young showing the world

a proud brood of offspring for a new year.

Father and mother alternate calls,

chi-CAH-go, chi-CAH-go,

for the chicks to follow.

Papa displays the larger topnotch,

a group of six small feathers arranged proudly,

allowing it to bob as he proudly struts.

Mother, with smaller plume,

antiphonally answers her mate

Chi-CAH-go, chi-CAH-go!

So, Spring has come to the shrub land

as the California quail arrives to

greet us with its rites of Spring.

(To hear the call of a California Quail, go to http://www.naturesongs.com/caqu1.wav)

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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Mount Rainier, Washington State, Summer 2003

Mount Rainier, Washington State, Summer 2003 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Morning dampness fades away
before the warmth of your glow
as you chase away the dark.
Rising mists shrink back down
and return to pond and bog
as you rise.
Damsel fly and dragon-fly take wing
to skip along thermal winds
as you lift warming air.
Heat of day brightens the landscape
bending and waving the air
as you bake the earth in your heat.
My arms burn red and my brow spills sweat
as your bright yellow orb begins its descent.
Warm blankets of wind surround and swirl about me
as your globe touches the western horizon.
Evening coolness winds its way
over the darkening landscape
as you descend into darkness
leaving us anxious for your return
in the opposite sky
to begin for us
a new warm day.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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